


After

by Tedronai



Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: AMoL spoilers, Gen, Heroes of the Horn, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-22 04:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2494244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tedronai/pseuds/Tedronai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An encounter in <i>Tel'aran'rhiod</i>, with an unlikely outcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted on Tumblr as a response to a prompt; "Moridin/Egwene in Tel'aran'rhiod" but I scrapped the shippy aspect of it from the get-go (I'm great at honouring prompts *rolls eyes*) and the rest just happened.
> 
> This is a very headcanon-heavy piece in that, as far as I'm aware, the possibility of Egwene being Latra Posae reborn was never addressed by the authors or Team Jordan, and I can't remember anything definitive about any of the current-Age characters possibly ending up as Heroes of the Horn, either. However, I think both are plausible. (This scenario... not so much, but we're just going to roll with it, mkay.)

The hardest part of dying was finding himself… not dead. He supposed his physical form had perished, but that was small comfort when he woke up in _Tel’aran’rhiod_ , still aware, still existing. He hadn’t actively contemplated suicide in over three thousand years — the Great Lord had promised him an end and that had been good enough — but now that the world had evidently not ended and he was faced with the prospect of existing for all of eternity… The idea was more than tempting.

How did one kill himself in the Unseen World? It should have been easy in a place where will and imagination could affect reality, but suddenly he was at a loss. He could do anything here, his mastery of the World of Dreams was unrivalled, but all of the methods he could think of required too much effort. Why was it not enough to simply wish to stop existing?

Wrapped in his thoughts, he did not notice that he was no longer alone until the newcomer spoke. “I thought I’d find you here.”

Too weary to be startled, he raised his head to look at the one who had spoken. A young woman, short and pretty, with dark hair and dark eyes, stood watching him from a respectful distance. She was no ordinary sleeper dreaming herself into _Tel’aran’rhiod_ by accident; he could feel her will asserting itself over the surroundings, as strong as his own and steadier, calmer. The wisdom in her eyes, the surprisingly gentle force of her presence belied her apparent youth.

"You used to have more control than that, Elan," she went on, not reprimanding or mocking but almost… concerned. "The entire World of Dreams echoes with your pain."

Elan wrapped his arms about himself, shivering. “You know who I am,” he said, unable to summon the energy to make it sound like a question. He recognised her, now, the child Amyrlin who had died fighting the Last Battle. Egwene, her name had been. Egwene al’Vere.

She nodded. “Before I died I knew you as one of the Forsaken,” she said. “But now, I also remember who you were… Elan Morin.” She spoke his name with a soft emphasis. Then she tilted her head thoughtfully. “It’s funny. Birgitte says we really remember only the most significant ones of our lives, only from the past Age or so, because you can’t very well remember your every life ever, but right now I feel like I remember so much.”

Elan stared numbly at her; she was the child Amyrlin, the innkeeper’s daughter from a backwater village who had been drawn out into the world and into history by pure blind chance… And yet she was also so much more. It took him a while to realise that he recognised another aspect of her, as well. “…Latra Posae?”

The woman arched an eyebrow and although her features didn’t change, for a moment she was every bit the Aes Sedai who had rallied her sisters during the War of Power to oppose Lews Therin’s plan to strike at Shayl Ghul. Then she shook her head. “Just Egwene. Please.” She smiled, a touch wryly. “I remember being Latra Posae, but it was Egwene al’Vere who seems to have earned a place among the Heroes of the Horn.”

"Heroes of the…" He trailed off and something like hope tried to raise its head at the back of his mind. "Have you come to kill me? Please, I… I can’t…" He bowed his head and closed his eyes; he couldn’t bear the sympathy with which she regarded him.

"No," she said simply.

The beginning of hope died again. Elan’s legs folded and he sank to his knees. “Why?” he whispered. “Why can’t it be over?”

He could hear the sound of footsteps as she came closer. “Sometimes,” she began, “something goes terribly wrong. Sometimes someone who should have been a hero ends up the villain instead. Sometimes people don’t know how to help the ones they love. Sometimes those who were lucky enough to make it to the end as the heroes they were born to be, recognise their past mistakes and want to make things right. And, sometimes…” An amused, almost mischievous note entered her voice. “Sometimes Heroes of the Horn take apprentices.”

A dozen variations of _'What do you mean?'_ went through Elan’s head but he couldn’t voice any of them. “They… do?” he finally asked.

"They do now," she replied with such reassurance that Elan almost — _almost_ — wanted to believe her. She smoothed his hair back from his face; Elan couldn’t remember that he had ever been touched with such gentleness. “You don’t have to be alone, Elan.”

He wasn’t sure when he had started to cry. All of a sudden he just became aware of the tears running down his cheeks, of Egwene — it was impossible to think of her as Latra Posae — holding him, cradling his head against her stomach and stroking his hair soothingly. He wept until he had no more tears left, as though it could wash him clean of the death and destruction he had left in his wake throughout his centuries of life, and when he was done, Egwene was still there with an air of infinite patience and compassion. She knew what he was, she knew what he had been, and yet she seemed to believe he could be worth saving. The thought was humbling and frightening, but he was too drained and exhausted to properly feel either.

As if she had read his mind, Egwene spoke again. “You don’t have to do this alone,” she repeated. “That’s the good thing about second chances. We can _all_ do better.” Making no move to hurry him, she went on, “Whenever you think you’re ready, we should get back to the others.”

Elan raised his head and wiped at his face with a shaking hand; Egwene took a step back to give him space. “Others?” he repeated, his voice thick from crying. Mainly to buy time; he did realise whom she meant. The rest of the Heroes. It was absurd; he had no business in such a company.

Egwene nodded. “They’ll want to meet you.” She held out her hand. “It turns out Rand — well, Lews Therin, as he used to be called; he’ll want to be called Rand now, I think — Rand has told them a lot about you. You and—” She trailed off with a grimace, but Elan could finish the sentence in his mind. No second chances for everyone. Perhaps it was just as well; Elan didn’t believe Barid could have made the journey back from Demandred in this lifetime. A clean death and rebirth with no strings attached were probably better for him.

He nodded slowly and stood up. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about meeting the Heroes of the Horn, but the prospect didn’t seem anywhere near as daunting as it should have.

As though reading his mind again, Egwene smiled up at him. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll take care of you.” She took his hand and he let her lead him to a new life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame Tumblr for this one. The first part was always meant to be a standalone and can still be considered such, but this "second part" _doesn't_ work as a standalone so I'm posting it as another chapter of the same fic.
> 
> This was prompted by an exchange over at the [Ask Demandred](http://ask-demandred.tumblr.com) blog, wherein someone suggested that it would be hilarious if Demandred accidentally did something heroic enough to end up bound to the Horn. Which, you know, obviously wouldn't happen in canon, but hey. But equally obvious is that I had to write it, anyway.

Seeing Barid is something of a shock. The former Chosen sits apart from the group gathered around a cozy campfire, casting irritated glances at the big, authoritative fellow Elan recognises as Artur Hawkwing. Hawkwing frowns back at him every now and then, as if unsure what to make of him. Elan looks down at his guide, who smiles (a touch sheepishly, he thinks). “You didn’t think to warn me?” he asks.

"I didn’t think you’d believe if I told you he became one of the Heroes," Egwene replies, unfazed.

Elan has to admit she has a point. That doesn’t make facing Barid any easier. How much of him is Barid, how much Demandred? Elan isn’t sure which one he’s less prepared to deal with, his dearest friend… or the man that friend had become. “I’m not sure I can do this,” he mutters, half turning away.

But it’s too late; Barid has noticed him. With two impossibly long strides ( _Tel’aran’rhiod_ , Elan reminds himself dumbly) Barid crosses the distance between them and pulls Elan into a crushing embrace. It takes a moment for Elan to realise that the sound he’s hearing is laughter; it has been literally thousands of years since he last heard Barid laugh.

"What under the everliving Light are you doing here?" Barid asks.

"I’ve no idea," Elan replies. "Ask her." He nudges his head in the general direction of Egwene; anything more precise involves too much effort. He’s not entirely sure he believes this is happening, that Barid is really here, and he doesn’t want to move lest the illusion shatter. Barid’s arms around him feel real, but this is _Tel’aran’rhiod_ and he wouldn’t put it past himself to have, in his grief and madness, subconsciously conjured the apparition of his old friend.

"I’d rather not," Barid says wryly. "I don’t think she likes me."

Deciding that Barid is real enough for now, Elan rests his head on his shoulder. “How come?” he asks, only a bit curious in truth. Mainly he just wants Barid to keep talking, simply to hear his voice again without the dark edge of anger and resentment that had been ever-present since his turning to the Shadow.

"I appear to have killed her husband," Barid replies. "You know. In the Last Battle. The fool came at me with a sword. What was I supposed to do?"

Elan chuckles. “A sword. Funny.”

"It was," Barid agrees. "The poor boy couldn’t even channel."

Something in his manner tells Elan that this wasn’t the whole story (he really knows the other man too well even after all this time). He raises his head to look up and arches a questioning eyebrow. “…And?”

Barid appears almost embarrassed. “Well. I wasn’t channelling, either.” His voice takes on a slightly defensive tone. “It wouldn’t have been fair— Fun! It wouldn’t have been fun.”

Elan shakes his head in exasperation. “Really, Barid?” He can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “You could have got yourself killed—” He cuts off when he realises what he’s saying, and the laughter dies. “You did. I know. We both did. We had to die.”

Silence.

“Bit of a mood killer, that,” Barid says finally. But he doesn’t sound as though he minds, just thoughtful.

Elan shrugs, but doesn’t pursue the subject; they can talk about that later. “How did you end up here, though?” he asks.

Barid chuckles. “I’m not too clear on that myself,” he replies. “I must have done something in Shara that worked out better than even I imagined. Nobody has bothered to explain much, though. No matter. I’ll figure it out.”

“You always did.” It’s such a comfort to know that Barid will be there, figuring things out; he has always been able to make things make sense when Elan couldn’t. “It’s good to have you here.”

“You, too,” Barid says quietly.

For a long while neither of them speaks. There’s healing in the comfortable silence, in the presence of a friend found again after having been lost so long ago. The time for conversation will come; it has to, there is too much history, too many losses and tragedies never truly processed, for one hug to make everything right. But that time is not now.

* * *

 

Lews Therin shows up years later, when his natural life span comes to an end. (In the meanwhile Barid has been reborn once, lived to his mid twenties in Ebou Dar and died in a duel. His only comment regarding said life, when Elan asked, was “Well that was anticlimactic.”) Lews is hailed as a hero and an old friend by the rest of the Heroes while Elan and Barid watch from the sidelines.

“Do you figure we should go say hi?” Barid asks, making no move to follow his suggestion.

Elan shakes his head. “He’ll notice us soon enough.”

“Not that I’d mind if he didn’t…” Barid mutters, not quite under his breath.

“Not much chance of that, I’m afraid,” Elan says with a faint smile.

And right he is; once he’s done greeting the others, Lews turns and sees the two former Chosen. “Wait, how the hell are you here?” he asks, staring at Barid, who merely shrugs. “Egwene told me about you, Elan. I… don’t disapprove.”

“How considerate of you,” Elan replies with a wry smile. Lews may look like the shepherd Rand al’Thor, now, and have his mannerisms and way of speaking, but the blunt honesty is something that both incarnations shared.

Lews blinks but lets the comment slide, turning back to Barid. “You killed Gawyn.”

“I’m sorry, which one was that?” Barid bares his teeth in something that may or may not qualify as a smile. “I killed a lot of people.” That earns him a fierce scowl from Egwene, who has been following the exchange. Barid grimaces, not quite apologetically. “He tried to kill me. What was I going to do, tie him up and send him back to you by a gateway? Not likely.”

“That might have taught him something,” Egwene mutters, then blinks as though surprised at her own words. “Well, it was exceedingly foolish of him, but regardless, I’m not ever going to appreciate you for killing him.”

Barid nods. “That sounds fair enough.”

Lews looks from Barid to Egwene to Barid again, clearly unsure of the situation. “Well. I take it you two are not about to try killing one another, so… We’re good, right?” Three pairs of eyes stare at him with looks that can only be described as unimpressed. He grimaces, but after a moment he holds out his hand to Barid. “We can try to make this work… Can’t we?”

The silence stretches out for somewhat longer than comfortable, but finally Barid grasps the offered hand. “Very well. We can try.”


End file.
